


Rough Flight

by Karaii



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Daken and Bullseye are lovehate boyfriends, Daken's sex pheromones, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:51:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karaii/pseuds/Karaii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daken's attempt to free Bullseye from imprisonment following Siege goes awry when Wolverine shows up. Daken subsequently uses his pheromones to save both their asses -- or, well, his own. Kink meme fill.</p><p>Original Prompt: "Wolverine/Bullseye/Daken; comicverse; bondage, dub-con. Bullseye in bondage, somehow unable to use his hands anyhow, with father and son Sniktbub tag-teaming to fuck him. Daken is to blame - for everything."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rough Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate canon to what happens at the beginning of Shadowland 01 (2010), where Bullseye escapes imprisonment following his capture during the end of the Siege (Dark Avengers 016, 2010).
> 
> Shameless use of Daken's pheromones to induce PWP sexy times. Logan may therefore be OOC, as he is under the influence. Enjoy, and feel free to leave a comment!

After being captured by the Avengers following the siege and fall of Asgard, Bullseye had been forced into an absurdly elaborate straightjacket, crammed into an adamantium cage on wheels, and stowed away like baggage on a military plane. Final destination: New York’s finest maximum-security prison.

“Prisoner Transport Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, cleared for takeoff.”

“Did you morons really name my prison ship ‘W.T.F.’?” Bullseye groaned behind the mouth guard ensuring he didn’t spit teeth at his entourage. “That’s fuckin' stupid.”

One of the two guards standing stiffly by his cage barked out a short, “Shut up.”

“Or keep that up and we’ll shut it for you,” barked the other.

Two bright fellows, Bullseye figured sarcastically. But would they fall for a ruse?

See, Bullseye had no intention of being incarcerated. He understood that there was a precious window of time from here to New York where he would have to make his escape if he meant to avoid life in jail. He’d lucked out in getting two morons for guards, but that didn’t ensure he'd be able to get out. First, he had to find a way to get them to release him prematurely. Bullseye had prepared a number of options before boarding and now was the time to choose which one would be the most viable. To do this, he analyzed his situation.

He was hooked up to more machines than a terminal patient at a hospital. He recognized a heart rate monitor and what appeared to be an electroencephalogram, but what these idiots thought they could interpret from his brain waves was beyond him. The machines themselves were probably coded to start beeping if he experienced so much of a single spike of aggression. Hmm, now there was a thought.

Bullseye was contemplating faking a heart attack when both guards abruptly dropped to the floor, dead.

“What the fuck?”

“Hello, darling,” purred an unmistakable voice.

"Daken?" Bullseye’s monitors helpfully noted a spike in his heart rate. “You piece of shit!”

“Now, now, Lester, that’s no way to express gratitude towards your savior.”

Daken slid out of the shadows like a motherfuckin' ninja, completely nonchalant in his military getup. He was wearing the pilot’s clothing, which implied he’d murdered the real deal and taken his duds sometime between the airport and takeoff. Either way, he’d weaseled his way through several layers of security undetected to get to Bullseye, which the assassin refused to be impressed by, let alone flattered by. No fuckin' way.

Stupid heart rate monitors.

“Thanks, Junior. Now get me the fuck out, will you?” Bullseye shifted uncomfortably in the straightjacket, the clink of chains audible even above the noise of the plane. “I hate being tied down.”

“Is that so.” Daken walked up to him with an amused expression, removing the leather gloves from his hands as he went. “I rather like you like this, personally.”

Bullseye hated the heart rate monitors. “You didn’t come all this way just to laugh at me, did you? You bastard, come on! Fucking let me out!”

“Hmm.” Daken reached out to lightly trace down Bullseye’s abdomen through the bars. “Will you make it worth my while?”

“I’ll fucking put out your eyes if you don’t, Daken, I swear—“ Bullseye’s breath hitched as the other man’s hand reached the zipper in his pants. Daken’s hand was hot and fiercely familiar as it reached down and oh-so-slowly undid the metal, tooth by tooth. “Daken, you—“

“Shh. All in good time.”

Daken’s eyes were focused on him, gaze intense. Bullseye mouth went dry even as his body began to sweat, adrenaline and arousal registering clear as day on the machines. Daken confidently palmed him, following the curve of his throat with his other hand as Bullseye stifled a groan and tilted his head back. Metal protested loudly when he tried to reach Daken only to be held back by the short length of the chains, his hands clenching empty air.

“Fuck,” Bullseye breathed. “I’m going to kill you.”

This was dangerous. _Extremely_ dangerous. With the guards and pilot dead by Daken’s hand, it was only a matter of time until the military caught whiff of the imminent prison break. Daken shouldn’t be wasting time giving him a hand job when they were still dangerously in the red and so close to capture.

The fear and dread only made him hotter.

“I’ll kill you, Daken!” Bullseye repeated, wrenching his chains futilely in an attempt to jerk his hips. The straightjacket kept him from moving his arms and the restraints kept him from moving in place. Daken’s hand, meanwhile, kept stroking him unhurriedly, as if they weren’t two men on the run. It was bloody torture.

“You look so good like this,” Daken murmured, hand petting his exposed throat. “You can’t do a thing without me, hm?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bullseye moaned, “and go faster!”

Daken smirked wide and with teeth before he finally obeyed and sped up. The angle was slightly awkward due to the thick adamantium bars separating them, but Daken was clever and Bullseye was desperate. The metal mask fitted on his face was making it difficult to breathe, and the lack of air was starting to make his head spin. A roaring began to build in his ears that had nothing to do with the engines of the plane and the loud beeping of the monitors. Daken’s skilled hand went even faster still, pumping him with the efficiency of someone who knew Bullseye’s body well, and he was getting close, close—

And then Daken let go with a loud, startled snarl.

“What the fuck!” Bullseye whined, still very much hard and very much unable to touch himself. “Daken--!”

“Shut up,” the mutant hissed, his claws coming out with a _snikt_. “We’ve got company.”

Bullseye’s head was still muggy from arousal but he bit back complaints and urged his body to calm the fuck down. Company? Had Daken failed to kill one of the guards?

“ _Wolverine_ ,” Daken growled hatefully. “He’s on board.”

“What?” Bullseye wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly, but he wasn’t going to take his chances. “Fucking hell. Get me out of this cage!”

Daken moved quickly, producing a complicated-looking key from one of his stolen uniform’s many pockets. He inserted it into a control panel by the monitors and, with a twist, the adamantium bars noisily slid away.

“Get me out of this jacket!” Bullseye urged, still bound and chained by the hands and legs to the wall of his cage.

“Not so fast, kid.”

Daken turned with a face full of angry snarl. Wolverine looked mildly disappointed in his blue and yellow getup, though he had yet to unsheathe his adamantium claws.

“Seriously, though... _Bullseye_?”

“How did you get onboard?” Daken growled, ignoring the verbal jab. He briefly entertained the idea of bolting and abandoning Bullseye, but his pride kept him in place. He hadn’t killed his way onto this god-forsaken airplane just to abscond away empty-handed.

“Stowed away with the cargo after I sniffed yer trail onboard.” The X-Man eyed the dead bodies of the guards with a judgmental eye. “See it didn’t take you long to dispose of the crew.”

Bullseye was utterly lost and still chained and, annoyingly, still fucking hard. The whole scenario had a surreal quality to it. To think that less than a day ago he’d been helping bring Asgard down. A week before that and he’d been at the top of the world, a full-fledged Avenger. Now? He practically had his pants about his ankles and his would-be savior was having a Mexican standoff with his fucking father. He stifled the very real urge to laugh and maybe scream in frustration.

“Yes,” Daken said softly, his voice laced with that purr that drove Bullseye wild with anger and lust. “I killed them. What are you going to do about it, daddy?”

 _Snikt_. “Son, you have to re-evaluate your life choices.”

Bullseye barely managed to blink when Wolverine and Daken were at it, snarling and slicing and making a bloody mess. He struggled futilely in his chains but they held true, keeping him the unwilling spectator to a family feud he had no interest in.

Well. A little interest in.

Now that he was confined and incapable of action, all that he had left was to observe. It was a messy fight for sure but there was an elegance to their movements, which Bullseye felt strange to even think because he loathed them both so completely. And yet there it was. For every seemingly mindless snarl and animalistic howl here was an intelligent lunge or strike there, drawing mutual blood in coldly calculated spurts. Bullseye could get behind elegant murder.

To the outside observer they appeared equally matched. In reality Daken was slowly winning: with every new wound his pheromones found easier access to Wolverine’s bloodstream, steadily flooding his brain with chemicals that would have him submit to Daken’s will. He savoured each traded blow with a savage, gleeful smirk. Too easy.

They hit a standstill a few minutes into the gore, standing on opposite ends of the cabin. Both Wolverine and Daken were breathing deeper than usual, cooling their heels for another round. In the ragged silence Bullseye fantasized he could smell the sweat beading on their necks, lick the blood off their knuckles. He wondered if Wolverine tasted anything like Daken did.

“Is he getting off on this?” Wolverine sounded amused.

“He gets hard when he watches me fight.” Daken sounded pleased.

“Hey!” Bullseye snapped out of his lustful daze defensively. “I get hard after any fight! Doesn’t have to involve you, fag-face.” He jerked at his chains, annoyed. “Finish this shit up and let me out already.”

“Hm,” was all Daken said before Bullseye was hit with a wave of lust so thick he almost came dry.

“Fuck!”

Even Wolverine looked a little red. “Kid, what did you…?” He was significantly more out of breath than before. “What the hell is this?”

“I can smell it on you,” Daken said coolly. He broke the standstill and approached Wolverine with a confident swagger. “I felt it as we fought. You get off on this too, don’t you?”

Bullseye couldn’t tell if it was smugness or anger beneath the words. Likely a fucked up blend of both. A very hot blend, because goddamn, Daken had a voice that could melt butter when he really wanted to.

“Daken, I don’t know what you’re doing, but—“

“Watching me move, cutting me open.” Daken was practically in Wolverine’s face now. “Smelling Lester getting off on us.”

Something wasn’t sticking right yet because Wolverine snarled and tried to push Daken away. The younger man was nimble though and ducked in close, pressing up against his father. Feeling the definite hardness through the spandex.

“You watched us for a while before you intervened, didn’t you?” Daken purred, oozing sex. “Hearing your son jack another man off. Lester is very responsive.”

Bullseye felt like he should protest but the air was so thick and heavy he began to shake in his chains, wanting to collapse from the force of his arousal.

“God…” He managed to mumble. “Someone fuck me.”

If Bullseye was nearly incoherent from Daken’s pheromones at this distance, Wolverine was getting there with the full brunt of his son’s powerful mutation. A lustful growl rumbled up his chest, mind buzzing with a build up of heat and feral need.

“Daken…” Wolverine was clearly trying to struggle against the urge but he was losing. Daken looked a cross between pleased and viscerally, viciously furious when Wolverine finally caved and leapt at his throat, sinking his teeth into his son’s shoulder. Daken responded by clawing at his father’s already bloodied uniform: to tear him off or egg him on, it was hard to tell.

The pair of them ended up on the floor, snarling and thrusting against each other without much refinement. It was nearly identical to when they had been trying to eviscerate each other, except now their claws were sheathed and their hands were more preoccupied with aggressively removing each other’s clothing.

Bullseye felt like he was in hell. He repeatedly banged his head against the wall of his cage, struggling so hard against his bonds that he was sure a normal human without adamantium-laced bones would’ve cracked something by now.

“God damn it, Daken!” he yelled, desperately struggling to grind against his straitjacket with little success. “You can’t fucking screw your father before cutting me loose!”

As one both feral mutants turned, pupils blown wide. Bullseye’s stomach abruptly dropped with terror. Oh, shit.

“Mmm. Lester’s right, Wolverine.”

Daken snaked from underneath the bulkier man to his feet. Wolverine’s eyes followed him, his mouth half-open and mutely salivating. What little man there was to the present beast was focused desperately on not jumping Daken and fucking him raw. By the look in his reddening eyes, the beast was winning.

Daken came close to Bullseye, his eyes conveying cool confidence. “My pet would get jealous.”

“Let him join in, then.” Wolverine’s growl was made of broken glass, and within a blink he’d slammed into Daken, pinning the taller mutant flush against Bullseye. Daken snarled in surprise while Bullseye loudly grunted, his breath knocked out of him. “Can’t let you cheat on your boyfriend.”

“Kinky,” Daken growled coldly but his hips rolled with the motion, adapting to the situation. “You going to fuck me on top of him?”

“I ain’t that far gone, son,” Wolverine chuckled coolly, but he was far enough along that he licked a wet trail along the side of Daken’s exposed neck. “Suck him off.”

Bullseye whimpered.

Daken’s eyes flared. He loathed taking orders from anyone who thought to dominate him, his father most of all, but in this position and with Bullseye lost in a pheromone-driven lust his best option was to deal with this situation carefully. Patiently. Wolverine was outnumbered and, entrenched in his own need, less aware. If Daken could manage to convince him to free Lester, they might be able to knock him out long enough to throw him overboard.

“You going to watch?” Daken purred, and slowly sank to his knees. Bullseye’s zipper was still open, radiating heat from within. With care he sliced through some of the restraints holding Bullseye’s legs together and released his erection into the hot cabin air.

“Christ!” Bullseye jerked side to side. “Kill me or fucking get me off, already! Fuck!”

“Patience, sweetheart,” Daken murmured, but with one last hateful, lustful glance at his father, he opened his mouth and swallowed Lester whole.

“Oh, fuck,” Bullseye whimpered. He wondered if he was dreaming: there simply was no way this was happening. Maybe he really had self-induced a heart attack and this was his body’s last hurrah before the guards zapped him back to life. Reality or not, he was getting desperately close to the edge again.

From the skill in which Daken was blowing him, there was no doubt he was showing off. Bullseye had no complaints. He panted wetly behind his metal muzzle, moaning and struggling to inhale precious oxygen through the small slits. Heat gathered up in his navel to the rhythm of Daken’s skillful tongue, his heart monitors noisily whining louder and louder.

“Daken,” he groaned, shifting in his restraints. “God, yes. You’re so good.”

Wolverine wasn’t watching idly, palming himself through the spandex. He reached out and placed a hand on Daken’s shock of hair, which earned him a vicious glare but no violence. Thank God for that, because Bullseye was getting so hot he—

“ _Don’t you dare fucking stop_!” He howled furiously when Daken released him with a wet pop, leaving him hanging for a second time. “Don’t you fucking--!”

“Shh, pet,” Daken said with a slight rasp to his throat. “Daddy’s going to watch me fuck you.”

Though Wolverine was not all himself, jacking off to the sight of his son sucking off another man, he was aware enough that he gripped Daken’s hair back when the man made a motion to free Lester from some of the chains in his feet.

“Do you think I’d fall for that, bub?” Wolverine chuckled darkly. “Finish him off and then you’re going in chains, too.”

“I’m releasing his legs and hips so I can hoist him up,” Daken said, smoothly covering up his loathing with another pheromone wave. “I so rarely get him in chains like this, it’d be a shame not to take advantage. Do you want to go first, then?”

Wolverine huffed and clutched his son’s hair tighter, before releasing him. “Loosen him up.”

Bullseye could hardly get a protest in when his mind was so stuffy with thoughts of violent sex and release. He was salivating so much he felt like he would drown in his own spit. He barely felt the chains at his sides pop open with a well-placed claw, barely felt Daken slicing off his white prisoner slacks alongside the numerous belts that kept his lower body stiff and unmoving. He did, however, feel that clever tongue licking it’s way down his scrotum, and with both legs hoisted over Daken’s shoulders, felt it close in around his asshole.

The sensation of Daken eating out his ass was strange but not unwelcome, only elevating Bullseye’s anticipation. He was also kind of terrified. Wolverine was a fucking behemoth. To think he was going to get fucked by that huge monster of a man while high on Daken-roofies. Jesus Christ. Bullseye had a number of things on his bucket list but ‘getting fucked by Wolverine’ might be the last one he’d ever check off.

“Mm, you’re clean,” Daken emerged from in between Bullseye’s legs, smirking deviously. “Very nice of you.”

“Was gonna fake a heart attack,” Bullseye explained breathlessly. “Didn’t wanna soil myself. Please, just fuck me already.”

“Lovely,” Wolverine growled. “Move.”

Daken snarled possessively but ceded to his father’s rough push with a subdued glare, preferring instead to concentrate on releasing a steady stream of pheromones. He had to keep this delicate situation under control. Wolverine was acting under his base instincts, hence the sex monster, but playing around with Wolverine’s feral nature undoubtedly brought the violent monster in him, too. One wrong move, one miscalculated dose, and Daken could induce a psychotic rage that would have Bullseye eviscerated.

“Mother _fuck_!” Bullseye howled when Wolverine gripped his untied hips and shoved himself into him without preamble. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Daken bit his lip, struggling to contain his own arousal. He could smell Bullseye’s pain and Wolverine’s lust, hear the squelching of their sex. It was a battle not to attack Wolverine for touching what was his, to attack him for daring put his back to him, for being on this plane at all. He controlled his rage by digging a hand into Wolverine’s hair, echoing the hold his father had had on him. Wolverine snarled but continued thrusting, his eyes bloodshot red.

“Fucking, Christ—“ Bullseye was yelling, tears streaming out of his eyes. “Fuck!”

He felt like he was being torn in two. Because of the restraints he couldn’t look down at himself but from the pain he knew he must have been bleeding. There was no doubt Wolverine was huge, and with the nigh-lethal force behind each thrust, he was either aiming to fuck his stomach or tear him in half. He wanted to kick him away; he wanted to strangle him dead; he wanted to be free so he could at least jerk himself off.

The noises Wolverine was making weren’t human. Chest-deep growls and grunts and hoarse panting, he was more a beast in heat than man. Daken loved it. He’d reduced his father to a slobbering animal, and he knew this was not something Wolverine would forget. Ever.

“Good job, pet,” Daken said savagely. “Tighten up.”

Bullseye responded on automatic, which earned him a particularly feral snarl and a particularly deep thrust. Despite the pain, or perhaps because of it, Bullseye ejaculated so hard his cum splattered his muzzled jaw and cheek.

“Fuck,” Bullseye exhaled hoarsely, voice and body spent. “Oh, God, fucking hell.”

Wolverine was not far behind. When he came it was in thick, sharp bursts that sent screaming nerves of pain up Bullseye’s spine. Wolverine thrust up into the liquid mess once, twice more before his hips halted, his softening penis sliding out of Bullseye. A pleased rumble escaped his chest before it sputtered out, the release having helped expel out most of Daken’s pheromones.

“What the hell…” was all Wolverine managed before Daken slammed an adamantium bar through his chest. The man gurgled and attempted to swipe Daken’s head off with his claws, but the son was faster than his confused, guilt-riddled old man and knocked him out with a surge of electricity, courtesy of the monitors surrounding the cage. Adamantium was a fine conductor of electricity, and Wolverine’s bones were coated in the stuff. No brainer.

Daken didn’t waste time boasting. He quickly dragged the unconscious Wolverine to the emergency exit door, which he pried open. The outside wind was howling, bitingly cold. Wolverine was only just stirring when Daken promptly rolled him overboard. His bloody, naked body quickly disappeared under the clouds.

“I hope you drown,” Daken spat, and with a mighty heave managed to close the emergency exit door.

He exhaled in exertion after that was done. Constantly exuding pheromones was a natural state for Daken, but releasing them in the huge amounts that had been necessary to control his father had been exhausting. He didn’t have much more in him to soothe Bullseye.

Bullseye came out of his pheromone daze with a weak groan. “What the _hell_ just happened. Did Wolverine just— _FUCK_!” He’d made an attempt to move but everything hurt and nothing was responding. His lower body was bruised and battered while his upper half was still bound tight in buckles and shackles. He would not be able to move for quite a while.

“Yes, he did. Now be still and let me untie you.”

Daken made quick work of the rest of the restraints keeping Bullseye latched to the cage wall, catching his limp body in his arms when it fell. The man was coated in sweat and stank of violence. Daken gently ripped off the metal mask that had ensured Bullseye would not bite or otherwise maim anyone with his teeth. This revealed saliva and blood pooling down his chin, where Bullseye had either bit his tongue or clenched his teeth so hard his gums had bled.

“You fucking asshole,” Bullseye seethed, shaking feverishly. “You fucking—you—“

“Hush, pet,” Daken soothed. “Yes, you were raped by Wolverine. You can help me murder him when you feel better.”

Bullseye screamed and lunged, shoving Daken to the floor and straddling him still. He spat a loose tooth at Daken’s neck where it ripped open his throat with lethal precision. Daken rolled with the blow, gurgling, letting Bullseye wrap his furious hands around his neck to choke out the rest of air that had escaped the bone bullet. Loosely he petted Bullseye’s ankles that were level with his hips, letting the violence wash over his person. His vision was going dark when Bullseye’s energy finally abated, his tired body collapsing against Daken. The hands around his throat went limp, letting Daken breath again.

“I fucking hate you,” Bullseye gasped wetly. “Everything hurts.”

Daken pressed an apologetic kiss to Bullseye’s feverish head. “You’ll feel better. Roll off, dear, I have to steer the plane.”

Bullseye tried to shift but all he managed to do was rub his abdomen on Daken’s erection. “You're still hard after all that? Sick bastard.”

“Mmhmm,” Daken said, lightly petting the back of Bullseye’s neck. “You put on quite a show.”

“You piece of shit.”

“Father-fucker.”

Bullseye growled. His ass was leaking blood and cum onto Daken’s shredded uniform, likely staining it. It smelled very strongly of nasty. It was then that his body began to shudder. At first Daken worried it might be tears, but it was actually laughter.

“Your old man’s more brutal than you. I’m impressed.”

Daken shoved Bullseye off. The man yelped in pain, curling around his injured body.

“I’m going to fly us to a safe location, and then we’re going underground. Try not to bleed out.”

“C’mon, Daken. I can barely move.” Bullseye glared at him from the ground. “Thanks to your smelly roofies and your need to fuck with your dad. At least get me out of these duds, they stink to high hell.”

Daken took pity on the man. His own uniform was utterly shredded, bloody and useless. Luckily for both him and Bullseye, there were two perfectly useable uniforms on the corpses of the two dead guards still lying by the cage.

He efficiently stripped the guards and kicked their bodies to a corner of the room. Then, gentler, he stripped off what little remained of Bullseye’s prisoner outfit, taking note of all of the bruises that were beginning to appear on the man’s skin. While a good lot were from Wolverine’s terrifying grip, several scratches and dark patches no doubt were from the siege they’d survived just a day prior. Perhaps some were from police brutality, too.

“You aren’t giving me any more, you possessive shit,” Bullseye warned, reading Daken’s mind. “Or I’ll take out your eyes and throw you overboard, right after your piece of shit father.”

“I’ll wait for you to heal,” Daken said generously. He nuzzled Bullseye’s neck as he zipped up the jacket, licking the semen splattered there and tasting salt. His nose wrinkled. “I don’t like how you smell, dear.”

“Because I stink of Wolverine?” Bullseye said self-deprecatingly. “Well suck it up, princess, it’s wholly your fault. The faster you get us to safety the faster I can shower and get this fucking filth off of me. So. Stop humping me and get us there.”

Daken dropped a clean slice of shredded uniform on Bullseye’s lap. “Wipe yourself with this while I change. Then we’ll get you into your new pants.”

Bullseye spat at Daken for the slight, which, with his perfect aim, managed to hit his eye. Daken growled and wiped it off irritably but didn’t engage further, busying himself with removing his own mangled outfit and putting on the smaller dead guard’s clean pair. To his distaste it was still a size too long for him about the legs and too tight about the shoulders. Oh well, he would make do.

When he was done he turned to see Bullseye making a pained face as he tried to scoop away the semen that was beginning to dry on his thighs, bent at an awkward angle. It was obvious he was embarrassed, furious, and in pain, a combination of which usually got Daken hot and bothered, but presently only made him feel frustrated because it had been Wolverine who’d left him in such a state, not him.

“Let me do that.” Daken reached out for the scrap.

“Fuck off!” Bullseye threw the semen- and blood-slicked cloth, and Daken only just barely managed to bat it aside before it splattered over his face.

“Calm down,” Daken said shortly. “Or I’ll leave you there until we land and let you suffer hypothermia in addition to embarrassment.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Bullseye growled, but didn’t try to attack him again. Daken took another clean scrap and, carefully raising one of Bullseye’s legs, began to efficiently wipe the worst of it. Bullseye grit his teeth and glared at Daken, fists clenching at his sides. The rough sex had caused numerous painful abrasions and with semen up his ass it might get infected. Daken would have to find him discrete medical attention lest he suffer a fever. A sick Bullseye was not something he wanted on his hands.

After a minute of cleanup in silence, Daken nudged Bullseye’s legs into new pants, shimming it up his thighs. “Sorry I let Wolverine fuck you.”

“No you’re not.”

“Well, no, it was pretty hot,” Daken said blithely. “Not to mention the blackmail I have on the old man now.” He gently tucked Bullseye’s prick into the slacks, and did up the zipper. Now all that was left was the uniform’s belt.

Bullseye managed a hateful smirk. “You owe me a fuck, you fairy faggot.”

“Mm, I would but we’re on the run, pet. Plus, I’m not taking Wolverine’s sloppy seconds.” Belt done.

“Not me, you jackass.” Bullseye pushed Daken off of him. “You owe me a show. With any person I chose. Deadpool or Vulture or the fucking Juggernaut, whoever.”

Daken frowned resentfully. He considered telling Bullseye he didn’t owe him anything, but, well, the idea of Bullseye watching him get fucked was annoyingly arousing. “A single rain check, sweets. Just one.”

“All I need,” Bullseye grinned. “Now help me to the cockpit and fly us to Mexico or Miami or wherever. Someplace warm.”

Daken looped an arm around Bullseye and helped him to his feet. “As you wish, pet.”


End file.
